


The Great Granby

by EmilliaGryphon



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik, The Great Gatsby (1974), The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:50:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1920's Great Gatsby/Temeraire AU! Granby is a servant in the Sultans mansion, a slave to his intolerable daughter. Laurence is a wealthy man whose sister just died and now he must care for the nephew he never knew he had.</p><p>DISCONTINUED...sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One 

William Laurence was a man who prided himself on his dignity, honesty, generosity to those he deemed worthy, and his self-confidence. He was the son of a prominent politician in parliament. He had once been highly regarded during world war II in his rank as a naval officer. While the war brought gloom and death to most, it brought William Laurence a herald of wealth. During a submarine mission seeking out and destroying enemy ships, Captain William Laurence had detected the remains of a ship lost long ago during the Napoleonic Wars. The ship was a 36 gun French frigate, The Amitie. Daringly, Laurence had steered the British sub to the lost wreck and from this find he gained his riches for the ship still held water logged prizes within its holds. Laurence retired after the war and found a home on the shores of America where he established for himself a mansion worthy of a king. Over three hundred rooms, acres upon acres of gardens and greens overlooking sea in New Port Rode Island. Laurence lived with his books and his ego for seven years of content, except for the occasional letters of displeasure from his father who was somewhat disgusted by his sons success and leave of the British Navy. From where he stood now however, Laurence felt none of the glory or fame that had come from his find. Instead he felt quite small and out of place, a feeling he rarely experienced and did not enjoy in the least. Despite his attempts at composure he fiddled with his neck cloth standing in the open mahogany doorway. The man before him, or rather boy; (for he was just beginning to be a man at that strange phase where one can never be so sure,) looked back at him with large, sky blue eyes. 

“Please, do come in…I am terribly sorry what did you say your name was again?” Laurence asked, stepping aside. 

“Lung Tien Xiang,” the boy said rather brightly. Laurence nodded, taken aback. It had never occurred to him that the child would have a Chinese name, though of course it made sense with his father being Chinese of course. 

“Lung Tien…Xi…Xian,” he tried without much success. The young boy strode past him and stopped, marveling at the luxurious grand hall before him. Only after a few minutes did he turn back to Laurence, his blue and black silk robes tracing the hardwood in a swooshing noise. 

“You may call me Temeraire. My mother called me Temeraire.” As he said this, the boy’s eyes looked downward, his hands folded into each of his unusually long cut sleeves. 

Damn you, Edith. Laurence thought of his younger sister with dubious contempt. How dare you do this to me, to you son? Perhaps the one thing father and I agreed on was the fact that you should not have gone to China, and in the middle of a war no doubt. But you went anyway, just like I always knew you would. You went, you made your point, got married and had a son, and got yourself killed. Well done. Now look who is left having to deal with father. William Laurence has always been somewhat of a controlling man but the two people he could never control were his father and his baby sister. Now she had run off and gotten killed, leaving him, a respectable man, with a nineteen year old blemish upon his otherwise shameless name. Laurence consoled himself with the soul fact that he could perhaps hide his nephew’s existence from their father. Lord Allendale hadn’t been well these past few months and was currently at a hospital in Boston. There would be no letters, no inspections at least for a while. 

“Are you a navy man?” Temeraire asked. The child had wondered into one of the rooms off of the great hall and was currently bending down to poke at a delicate replica of the Amitie that Laurence had custom ordered. His pitch black hair was bit long, with bangs that fell in front of his large eyes. Several strands were longer than the rest, tightly braided and bound in blue clips of a most peculiar fashion. His long pale index finger reached out and touched the miniature mast of the ship that stood on a table. 

“I once was yes,” Laurence said. He could not help the air of pride in his voice. “I was once in his majesty’s navy. Please do be gentle.” He added softly. Temeraire straightened up and Laurence stole a glance backward at the doorway while men began lifting suitcases from the car and looking for direction. “Mr. Riley, see these gentleman to Temeraire’s new quarters if you please.” Riley, Laurence’s head of service nodded and guided the men up the stairs towards the east wing of the house. 

“Quarters,” Temeraire perked. “Does that mean I get more than one room?” Laurence nodded a bit taken aback. 

“A bedroom for sleeping, a bathroom and your own sitting room I suppose, for play and things of that nature.” He fumbled over this sentence absurdly. Laurence was not accustomed to two things, embarrassment and children. Temeraire gave him a look, 

“I don’t play much. I prefer books.” Laurence nodded, somewhat relived but then inquired:

“Books? So you have never thought much of automobiles, games, girls?” Temeraire blinked as several moments of silence set them apart. Luckily the men finished moving in the bags rather quickly and Riley entered once more. 

“Temeraire, would you like something to eat?” At this the young boy’s face came alive again as he nodded vigorously.

“Do you have any fish, or pork dumplings?” 

“I’m afraid not son,” Laurence said. “We do have some fine steak tips though.” Temeraire looked at him quizzically. “Maybe I can have some ordered,” Laurence tried. Temeraire looked at him but only nodded after considering it for several minutes and followed Riley to the kitchens. Laurence followed them, casting Riley a grateful look. 

To Laurence’s relief Temeraire spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the house and grounds. He had warned him about over stepping boundaries, as not to offend the neighbors. Particularly the Sultan of Turkey who made his summer home across the road. At this Temeraire’s eye had widened but he agreed to not go wondering too far off. 

“He seems like an alright boy,” Riley commented as the two of them sat in the sun room. Laurence had fixed himself an early cocktail and had ordered the windows open to the sea breez. 

“Surely he is agreeable, but I cannot possibly raise him!” Laurence remarked and took another gulp, hissing as it slid down his unwilling throat. Riley nodded. 

“There are plenty of good boarding schools in the city.” Laurence shook his head, his sister would not have wanted that, but it seemed the easiest solution. 

“I will keep him here the summer, come fall I will find a suitable place for him.” He finished his drink and stood, gazing out at the window towards the ocean for a long time. He missed it sometimes, the pulling, pulsing of the tides. Laurence smiled to himself and then looked at Riley. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past two sir.” Laurence nodded, 

“Very good, tell the rest of the staff to prepare for a party this evening, in Temeraire’s honor.” Riley nodded, bowing slightly. 

“Should I invite the usual?” Laurence nodded once more, “even Ms. Roland?” Laurence smiled and shook his head, laughing to himself. “Especially Ms. Roland, if she has time enough to spare for me.” Riley nodded, then said in a tone that was more low,

“I don’t doubt she does sir. I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.” Laurence laughed then waved him away. At that same moment Temeraire came tramping in looking winded but happy. 

“You own quite a home Mr. Laurence Sir. Do you have a library?” Laurence put on a smile, 

“I am afraid it is quite small but come, I will show you.” Temeraire smiled even brighter, his eyes shining.

“Thank you Mr. Laurence sir, or should I call you captain?”


	2. TWO

Two 

“I am the sultan’s daughter!” Iskierka shrieked, nearly on the verge of throwing something valuable across her bedroom. It was not to be confused with her even larger dressing and bathroom, nor her room that she kept exclusively for her trophies and accessories. John Granby studied the elaborate mosaics upon the floor, wishing he could join the little squares there. For the past three hours Iskierka had been throwing one of her daily tantrums, though Granby had to give her credit that she was keeping her stamina up quite a bit for such a long time spent shouting. Personally he himself would have at least liked to have picked this fight outside in the slightly cooler air by the pool. His uniform was to blame. Long khaki pants with tall brown boots, paired with a green and gold jacket. “I never get to go ANYWHERE or do ANYTHING! I am a young lady and I will do what I want! Everyone knows that William Laurence holds the best parties! I am going and there is NOTHING you can do to stop me!” She snarled and folded her arms across her chest as he father, the very wealthy sultan of Turkey and Granby’s employer for the past two years calculated his rebuttal. 

“Iskierka,” he sighed helplessly. 

“It’s not like I’ll be gong ALONE,” she hissed. “Granby will take me!” Granby inwardly groaned and made to straighten his neck cloth as the sultan looked at him bewildered. 

“And what does Mr. Granby think of that?” Iskierka shot him a look that could pierce ice. He knew resistance was futile, he had been around long enough to know that the little brat always got her way and if there was anything worse than Iskierka getting what she wanted, it was Iskierka’s reaction to not getting whatever it was she wanted.

“I suppose it would be alright,” he said slowly. Iskierka squealed and threw her arms around him, an action which the sultan highly disapproved of. 

“Its’ settled then,” Iskierka stated triumphantly. “Don’t worry I won’t be too late and Granby here! He will take good care of me!” Before her father could object Iskierka kissed him on the cheek and shoved him out of the room. 

“Granby this is wonderful!” Somehow Granby did not feel as optimistic. Iskierka squealed and threw her arms around him. “You will wear your best, something of fathers but we will add a bit more bling to it!” With a kiss on the cheek she twirled over to her mirror and began to comb through her long black hair. Granby held back another groan as she danced over to him holding a colorful dazzling broach and pinning it to his jacket. She fussed over him for nearly two hours before he was finally allowed to look at himself in the mirror. When he did, he wished he hadn’t. His regular green and gold coat had been outfitted with gems and pearls of all sorts. They aligned the cuffs and sides of his jacket, as well as either side of his pants down each side. His hair was tied back in a ponytail with an elaborate, and slightly too feminine for his taste. Iskierka grinned from ear to ear as Granby simply stared at himself. “You look just splendid!” She squealed and admired him. “You look dashing!” Granby could only roll his eyes. 

“Iskierka, must I do this?” He may be the son of a poor coal merchant but Granby was not about to give up whatever shreds of dignity he had left. Iskierka looked at him, wide eyed and pouting. She was already dressed and made up in true flapper fashion. Her knee high dress a fiery red with a matching hat and pearls, she had tried her best to curl her long black hair which was straight by nature. 

“You will if you love me!” She sneered, in a tone that was not at all appreciative of what he had already done for her. Granby sighed heavily, he knew it was pointless to argue and, as much as he hated to admit it: he had grown to care for Iskierka. 

“Fine, let us go but let’s not be late. Your father will have me out of this house in a jiffy if you come back stumbling and slurring again.” Iskierka laughed, waving dismissively with her hadn and fixing on her mink lined coat.

“I was just having a bit of fun! C’mon, what you say Granby, care for a little fun this evening?” Granby didn’t answer, he knew perfectly well what Iskierka’s definition of fun was. Linking her arm through his the two of them set out for the mansion of William Laurence. The music could already be heard as soon as they stepped out of the gates and Iskierka pranced, chatting about how she hopped to meet someone famous. 

“Do you think Mr. Laurence knows anyone in New York City? Oh Granby wouldn’t that be swell if he did? Maybe if he sees me in my dress and I put on a show he will take me into one of those clubs in the city, you could come too of course!” And so she continued on as they strode up the stone crushed driveway passed the enormous iron rode gates to the mansion. Granby could only grumble and tried his hardest to fit in with statues on either side of the driveway. He had never even seen William Laurence, let alone knew anything about him. He let out a heavy sigh as Iskierka dragged him up the multiple steps to the grand front entrance, music blaring and lights casting in an array of colors all about. William Laurence was nothing but a figment in the imagination of the minds in the neighborhood so it seemed and John Granby was not entirely sure he wanted to know the rich British naval officer any more than he wanted to know a lost job. They were greeted by a tall blonde man in a tuxedo who awaited them in the doorway. Iskierka bounced up to him in all of her glory, her lips shining and eyes dazzling. She introduced herself then nudged at Granby. 

“What did you say your name was sir?” The man asked. Granby fidgeted as Iskierka kicked him.

“John Granby sir,” he managed. The man in the tuxedo nodded, then leaned into Granby; a little too close for his comfort and whispered, 

“Mr. Granby, Mr. Laurence would like to speak to you. Alone.” 

“But I’ve…” Granby stammered. “I’ve never met Mr. Laurence, how does he…?” The man smiled and shook his hand after kissing Iskierka’s. 

“Mr. Laurence knows you. He would like to speak to you, come shall we?” Mr. Riley took Iskierka’s other arm and guided them into another world. A world of parties, booze and jazz, the likes of which Granby had never seen before, the likes of which scared him greatly and overwhelmed his sense of self. By the time Mr. Riley was guiding them to this phantom Laurence figure, John’s head was swimming with a pleasant dizziness to it. They weaved passed multitudes of people, drinking and dancing as the music thumped and cocktails were served, spilled and reserved. Sparkles and lights glistened in the air with each twist of a flapper girl’s hips. It was only when Mr. Riley stopped short, that Granby struggled to focus. 

“Mr. Granby, may I present to you Mr. William Laurence.”


	3. THREE

Three 

Laurence had been in the process of introducing Temeraire to some of his closer and certainly more distinguished guests when Mr. Riley appeared with Granby. He turned to behold the two men and nodded curtly. 

“I will be with you in a moment. Riley, pray see this fellow has a good drink.” With that he turned back to his guests, smiling broadly with the heir of a man who knew he was important. “Temeraire this is Catherine and Lily Harcourt of Mr. Robert Harcourt of Chicago. They live here year round since their father bought them a mansion a few ways down the street.” The two women smiled at Temeraire. Catherine was the elder, nearly Laurence’s age but Lily seemed to be closer to him. Both were sipping cocktails and were true flappers in their sense of fashion, though Lily appeared to be more inexperienced in the ways of high society. Her hair color was blonde, but she had dyed it a very bright shade of blue that looked remarkably well with her bright brown eyes and orange dress. She held her martini, making a face as she sipped it and swirled it around playfully. Catherine swatted at her; the silver bangles on her slender arms jingling. 

“Stop that Lily you’ll spill your drink!” Lily frowned and ran the back of her hand across her eyes, smudging her elaborate makeup. 

“It taste gross, and this eye shadow is itchy!” She fired back, her voice like acid eating away at her older sister’s reputation. Catherine rolled her eyes but went back to talking with Laurence. Lily stuck her tongue out but forced herself to take a few more sips of the drink, screwing up her face which made Temeraire laugh. 

“This is Mr. Berkeley, and his son Maximus.” Laurence gestured to two large men, the larger of whom actually appeared to be younger. He had red hair, his broad shoulders all be tearing his suit. He smiled though and took another bite of caviar. “Mr. Berkely is a lawyer in Boston, but they vacation here in the summer months,” Laurence explained. “How are things for you in the city?” Berkeley took another swig of brandy before saying gruffly:

“Not as well as I would like I’m afraid.” He continued to complain for a few laborious minutes before Temeraire tuned him out and looked to his son. 

“Call me Max,” the boy said and extended his hand to Temeraire who took it with a smile. 

“Care to dance with me Max?” Lily asked; more a demand then a request. Temeraire and Maximus exchanged glances of confusion until Lily swung her arm around the boy’s neck to be led off closer to the band. Maximus’s face was mixture of nervousness and excitement. Temeraire laughed to himself watching the two of them walk past the other twisting, turning, spinning and slightly stumbling guests. Temeraire was never one for parties, or dancing, or drink for that matter. At the moment he would have liked nothing more than to sneak away into the refuge of the library. But his uncle Laurence was throwing this party for him, and it was only polite that he stay and attempt to make the best of it. Laurence however seemed to have forgotten him in the frenzy of people and dancing for as Temeraire looked over; his uncle was already talking to someone else, a banker or an automobile factory owner no doubt. With a sigh Temeraire turned away, brushing past the guests, making for the west wing of the mansion where he could be alone. Laurence made his way over towards where John Granby stood awkwardly and grasped him by the arm, leading him soundlessly through the party; up the stairs to a small billiards room away from the music. Shutting the oak doors he crossed the carpet and poured a glass of scotch on the rocks and offered it to Granby, then made another for himself. 

“John Granby I presume?” Laurence asked. Granby turned and stopped. For all of the tales and tells of the great William Laurence, here he stood. Tall confidant and composed, the party swirled around him like a spinning top. Even the people stumbling with their movements and steps had seemed to part way for him. His suit was hand tailored his smile one of a kind. Granby fumbled for a moment, staring into his glass as though he would find an answer there. 

“Yes sir, my name is John Granby.” Laurence gave another one of his winning smiles and extended a hand to him. 

“How do you do old sport?” Granby took the hand, wary at first. But when Laurence took his hand and shook it, he felt important and asked the routine question of how are you, with such earnest in his tone that Granby almost fooled himself into thinking that Laurence actually cared. 

“I am well,” he lied, “and yourself.” Laurence smiled again, Granby wished he would stop smiling, stop looking so cool and collected. For his own part, Granby felt nothing but well. The brass trumpet had pierced his ears, the shimmering glitter caught in his hair, the masses of people moving about, the smell of bodies and alcohol made him quite nauseous. Now alone in this billiard room, he felt the eyes from the illustrations of the oil paintings on the wall bare down into him. The music was numbed and he starred at the elaborate carpet in the darkened room. There stood William Laurence for whom all of this was dedicated to. He held himself like a man on top of the world, because really; he was. It was a world Granby would never know. 

“You are enjoying yourself?” Again that sense that he truly cared, inwardly Granby scowled. It was bad enough that smile but the thoughtful gleam in his eye, it was too much: too fake and appalling. 

“I am, thank you sir. You must understand however, I don’t…I’m not…”

“What rich?” Laurence asked bluntly, taking a sip of scotch. Granby said nothing, Laurence hesitated a moment then crossed over to him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder and looking him in the eyes. 

“Every man is rich, John. Not every man realizes it. This is the country of riches you know that?” Granby didn’t have time to answer, and it was not as though he would raise his objections. Laurence was not a man to be objected against. “Indeed it is. This is the country, this is the age. The age of technology, of invention and determination, of lights and industry and prosperity. I saw something you know, when I looked through the window of that submarine during the war, into the darkness of the ocean.” Granby had heard about the fortune of William Laurence before, how he had sold the treasure of an ancient French frigate. He was suspecting that was what the man spoke about now, and he spoke of it, less like a memory and more like a story that he had read to him long ago. “Out of that murky darkness, I saw the relic of an age passed, The Amitie. I saw that our passed is what shapes us, I won’t disagree with this. But it is the future that gives us the molds with which we can shape our destiny.” To this profound and rather unessassirly dramatic speech Granby only raised his glass in a feeble attempt to toast and took a long dredge of it. Laurence laughed too, and drank. 

“I like you John, you’re a man of great ambition, if only you have the courage enough to seek it, I can tell.” Granby’s stomach kicked; little did this highly aristocratic man know he had been dragged here by the spoiled whims and tantrums of a wealthy and closed minded sultan’s daughter. 

“I am afraid I can say no more sir,” Granby struggled to be polite. He was fed up with the hair brained schemes and dreams of folks who constantly got their way. It was unrealistic and selfish in his mind. “I must go. I came here with the daughter of his most noble sultan of Turkey.” A flash of disappointment crossed Laurence’s face, though he was quick to conceal it with a fake smile. 

“Of course, that is whom you work for is it not?” Granby nodded. “Very well old sport, if you insist. Though let me extend to you an invitation. I am going to visiting to Boston next weekend with my nephew and it would mean the world to us if you would join us. I own a club there that has a most plentiful buffet.” Granby looked down at his shoes, inwardly writhing. Who did this man think he was? He may be a poor servant, but he had his dignity. He didn’t need the charity of some do goody auction hopper. 

“I will see if I may get the day off,” was all that he managed. “Thank you for the scotch.” With that he walked briskly over to the table and set the glass down, with more force than needed and departed from the dark room, shutting the doors and stepping once more out into the frenzy of extreme partiers. 

Isierka had finished another flaming martini and was now giggling uncontrollably. She had already danced with and kissed at least several equally drunk and fun going gentlemen. Now her feet hurt, though she had long since abandoned her shoes, flinging them into the fountain. Kissing and dancing was all good fun, but she cursed as she stumbled up the marble stair case.  
Where is Granby, and why hasn’t he introduced me to this William Laurence yet? Is that all he thinks of me, that I am a stupid little girl? He is no better than my father! I shall have him fired at once! I am not a girl, I am a modern woman! A real flapper! I can drink with and dance with and kiss whomever I want! Her mind spun with angers and color as she flung herself against a large door. It gave in and she screamed, then cursed as she fell upon a hardwood floor. 

“Hello?” She called, trying to stand. Out of the warm spinning of her mind she tried to reach out to grab onto something but only succeeded in pulling herself up on a stack of books which gave way and fell once more to the ground. Damn it all! “Granby…GRANBY?!” She shrieked as she stumbled to her feet and looked around. It was a library, a beautiful library at that. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined either side with a green carpet down the middle. An intricate chandelier hung from the wall straight ahead of her where there was a large window looking out on the cliffs and several large chairs. Iskierka made her way over the closest book shelf, running her fingers along the leather bound spines and giggling to herself. She picked out a book and opened it in her shaking palms, leafing through the pages roughly. 

“Be careful with that,” someone said. She darted up, dropping the book. A boy of about her own age stood before her, bright blue eyes, his black hair strangely shaggy and several braided pieces hung to his shoulders. He bent down to pick up the book then looked at her up and down. 

“Who are you?” She demanded, her speech slurring somewhat. The boy looked at her critically, his eye brows knitting together almost as sharp as his frown. 

“I am Temeraire.” Iskierka burst out laughing and snorted, her eyes closing as she stumbled backward and caught herself at the last moment. 

“That’s a funny name!” He did not seem pleased by this. “I’m Iskierka! Swell to meet’cha!” She thrust out a hand in greeting which he did not return. “Why are you up here anyway you silly nilly? The party is out there!” She took a step towards him as he took a step back. 

“I am not too much for parties,” he admitted; he looked away sheepishly. Iskierka laughed again and stumbled towards him, he caught her arm and led her gently down to where the chairs were. 

“I looked at that book you know,” she gesturing to the ceiling. “It don’t got no pictures in it. Why would you want to read a book without pictures in it?” Temeraire sighed, disgruntled and sat her down in a large leather arm chair. Iskierka presently curled her knees up against her chest in rather immodest position, for her dress was rather short. 

“I think you’d better sit.” Temeraire said with more annoyance then concern. 

“I think you had better…had better, I forget.” This resulted in another fit of giggles which Temeraire ignored and instead fetched her a glass of water. 

“Here,” he said impatiently, guiding her hand to the cup. Iskierka stared at it with fascination.

“Is this vodka?” She asked enthusiastically.   
“Its water,” Temeraire snapped. “Drink it.” Iskierka scowled. 

“You’re cuter with your mouth closed you know!” Temeraire was taken aback for a moment, more in confusion from her slurred words then flattery. “Give it here,” Iskierka ordered, grabbing his arm which still held the cup. She brought the glass to her lips, since smudged with worn lip stick and took several urgent sips before she threw his arm back with surprising strength and closed her eyes, breathing heavy. 

“Now just sit there,” Temeraire growled. “I’ll get someone to help you out of here.” 

“Wait!” Iskierka cried and grabbed his arm again, yanking him uncomfortably close. 

“What is it now?” He demanded, far passed fed up. He had been at a rather good point the Principia Mathematica when she had barged in. Iskierka opened her mouth to say something, took several long breaths and squeezed his arm tightly before hunching over vomiting all over herself, the chair, the rug and his own silk kimono.


	4. Four

Laurence sighed heavily, setting down the cup of coffee Riley had brought him over three hours ago. It was black, like his mood and the room around him. He had woke up undeniably hung-over in one of the guest bedrooms to a shirtless Jane Roland sitting in his arm chair sipping tea. 

“There you go Laurence, I thought you’d never finish it!” She laughed heartily and stood up again, striding over to the window. Laurence watched her through a foggy gaze but smiled. Jane Roland was one of the more boisterous women he knew. Like him, she had served in World War I, being the only female general of aviation. She was a woman who liked her men how she liked her coffee, bold and strong with no sugar. They met the first week he moved into the mansion. She and her young daughter Emily had appeared at his door one early Sunday morning. Jane had held a box of cigars in one hand and champagne in the other and had set about making herself comfortable in his home. They had talked, smoked, drank, and talked some more. Since then, they had done more than that. Laurence has formally asked if she would like to be his sweetheart and she had turned him down rather easily. “You fell asleep on me last night.” She grumbled and thrust open the curtains letting in a flood of cruel light. Laurence winced, covering his eyes against it. 

“My…my apologies,” he stammered, forcing himself to sit up and look around. She laughed loudly coming and sitting next to him. 

“It’s alright Will, we both know you can’t hold your drink.” She snorted in laughter and slapped him forcefully on the back. 

“Where is Emily? I don’t recall…the party,” Jane shook her head and smiled. 

“The party was as splendid as always, you don’t disappoint. Emily is asleep on a carpet somewhere I am sure. I saw her off playing with your nephew before we came up here.” He could only nod, his head swimming. 

“There was a John…a John Granby…” 

“Oh yes, that fella who looked all sunburnt? Yes he was here, he was helping that Iskierka girl walk out,” again Jane laughed. “You may need to get someone to clean up the library, she made quite a mess. Poor Temeraire didn’t know what to do with himself!”

Temeraire! Oh damn it! Laurence smacked the pillow beside him and moaned. Temeraire would think him foolish, such a nuisance. He made a mental note to remind Riley to get him a list of boarding schools as soon as possible. Jane kissed him on the cheek and stood up pulling on a crisp blue shirt and buttoning it smartly. She was a full built woman, her brown hair short cut but she was far to mature and sensible to be a flapper. 

“Well I’ve got to go Will, they need me in Washington in a few days. Some of us still have to work for our money.” He nodded, holding his head. With another kiss she turned to the door. 

“Wait!” Laurence cried, suddenly coming to himself. She stopped momentarily, looking at him in quizzically. “When will I see you again?” 

“I don’t know,” she said dismissively. With a shrug and a wave she was out the door. Laurence heard the dorm slam behind her like a drum and shook his head. I am her damn pet, the captain thought bitterly as he dragged himself out of bed. When he came down the stairs to the parlor, Temeraire was sitting on the couch reading. 

“Good morning,” Laurence said awkwardly. Temeraire looked up from his book, pale face healthy and eyes as bright as ever. 

“Good morning captain.” There was a moment of some silence between them in which Laurence decided he had better push himself to establish at least a friendly relationship with his nephew. He sat down beside him on the lavish white couch.

“You may call me Laurence,” he tried. Temeraire only glanced at him and nodded. 

“Captain, you are well this morning I see?” Riley asked, entering the room with a smirk on is face. Laurence glared at him. 

“Another cup of coffee if you please Riley, Temeraire would you like anything?” The youth looked up from his book once more, his blue eyes darting to and from each man as though confused. 

“Just tea thank you.” Riley nodded, bowed and gave Laurence a look of knowing. He suppressed laughter as he walked away. The captain looked briefly at the young boy who seemed to have no interest in conversation. With a sigh he shook his head and stood up, following Riley into the kitchens. 

“Have you looked into any proper boarding schools for the boy yet?” He grumbled. Riley turned to him and shook his head. 

“Can’t say that I have sir,” Laurence nodded. 

“Get me a list of the top boy’s schools in the country.” Riley nodded, handing Laurence his coffee. 

“Mr. Granby this will not be tolerated any longer. I trusted you to go out and chaperone my daughter and she has come back like this.” The sultan gestured to a snoring Iskierka who had promptly fallen asleep on the chase lounge in the drawing room upon the early morning return to their home. Granby had tried to wake her for several hours before his employer woke up, but the young woman would not be roused. 

“I am sorry sir,” he managed, inwardly cursing Iskierka. It had been her fault after all, running off and drinking with unknown men while he had tried to find her. It was only the rush of servants in Captain Laurence’s household amid the chaos of the party which had called his attention once more back to his duty. He found her on the rug in the library, vomit covering her and one extremely angry looking boy standing over her with his arms folded shaking his head. 

“Not only has she embarrassed herself but she has embarrassed me as well! You should be ashamed of yourself.” The sultan boomed. Granby’s face flushed red with anger. The only person who should be ashamed of themselves was Iskierka and her father. “I don’t want to have to do this to you Granby, but if you cannot do the simple duties I have asked of you, then you have no position in this house.” Granby looked up, his face twisting with anger. 

“There is no need sir. I quit.” Before the sultan could react Granby tore off his jacket throwing it at his employer’s feet. He would find work, any work, in the mines or a factory even. Anything was better than playing dress up with a spoiled brat and fool to a father to cowardly to discipline his daughter. “I quit this damn job! Hire a maid or a general to control your unruly, selfish, foolish, daughter! She is the worst child I have ever had the misfortune of dealing with and you sir!” Granby ripped off his neck cloth, “you are a spineless parent who hasn’t got the brains to deal with your child. I blame you sir, your daughter is a terror because you have ruined her! I will not be made either of your fools any longer, good day sir!” His voice was nearly shaking the walls now and Iskierka had roused herself, sitting up at once and looking around wildly. 

“Granby what are you doing? Where am I?” Granby rounded on her, looking into her eyes, his own were blazing. He bowed mockingly, 

“Farewell Iskierka, good luck with that temper of Granby rounded on her, looking into her eyes, his own were blazing. He bowed mockingly, 

“Farewell Iskierka, good luck with that temper of yours sweetheart You might be the first little girl to actually scare full grown fellas out of their wits!” 

“I am not little!” She fumed indignantly. Granby rolled his eyes, 

“Grow up.” Iskierka leapt upwards in an attempt to grab his arm. He twisted away and turned on his heel. 

“Granby! Get back here this instant, where are you…” the door slammed behind him. Granby sucked in deep breaths, the sea wind stirring his plain white undershirt. He expected to feel free, to feel liberated but none of those sensations came to him as he stormed away from the household. Only loneliness held him when he stood leaning against the railing, looking out to sea. Guilt was the first visitor to his conscious; Iskierka hadn’t deserved what he had said. She was spoiled; there was no doubt about that but yelling at her would not fix the problem and she was still young after all. No excuse, Granby went back and forth in his head. The motion of the churning waters crashing against the cliffs made his stomach nauseous while he thought of it. 

Good going, now you’ve done it. Unemployed, no home no family. You’ve really done it this time John. You’ve ruined the best chance you had. With a groan he heaved, vomiting over the side of the railing onto the rocks below and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand; glaring at a group of giggling girls who stared at him while they passed. By the afternoon he had made his way to Dockside, a local bar that operated in the less flashy part of town and had drunken four bottles of ill brewed beer. Damn it all. Look at yourself, look at your life. Why did you have to say anything; it would have been better to be fired rather than to throw a tantrum like that. At least if you were fired you could always come crawling back to beg. Granby swallowed the thought with another swig of beer, slamming the glass bottle down on the counter. It was hopeless. And just to think that William Laurence had been complimenting you the night before. Ha! What would he say now? William Laurence. Now there was an idea. Granby sat up, rubbing his eyes, threw his money down on the bar counter and made his way to the door. 

It had grown dark outside by this time, the lights on the streets casting streams of silver through the fog. Try as he may Granby could not seem to walk straight. Stumbling he fell to the heavy concrete and fought to raise himself once more but only vomited again. When he lifted his head again he saw it: the glowing lights of William Laurence’s mansion through the haze. Determined he straightened up trying to smooth out his appearance in order to look like a redeemable man. He did not want Laurence to see how he had so broken himself. 

There was no attendant at the large oak doors when he finally reached them. Clearing his throat he knocked on the large brass knockers that were elaborately detailed in the shape of an eastern style looking dragon. The door opened, Granby swallowed hard; preparing to explain himself. Mr. Riely stood in the door way. 

“Is Mr. William Laurence in residence sir?” He asked, smoothing out the color if his plain undershirt now stained with liquor. Riley eyed him with a dubious gaze:

“What is your purpose for inquiring of Captain Laurence?” Here Granby stopped, looking down at his feet incredulously for several agonizing minutes.  
“I have private business with him sir,” he tried. Riley did not appear to be moved. 

“Captain Laurence is otherwise occupied at present.” Granby suppressed a hard glare which lifted when he heard the familiar voice of the captain. 

“Riley is that Mr. John Granby? You may let him in.” Riley stared stiffly at Granby for several moments, his gaze judging the other man for several long moments before he stood aside. 

“Thank you,” Granby growled as he passed buy. Riley stepped ahead of him quick to assert his limited authority over the household as he led Granby to where Laurence sat in his study. It was a smaller room than that of the billiards and much brighter, large windows open facing the sea. The walls were decorated with mast heads and model sailing ships. Granby felt his stomach twinge; he was never one for sea faring. Laurence eventually looked up from the papers and brochures lay out on his desk and turned to face him. He smiled that large smile of his and stood, shaking his hand. Granby took it with a firm grip. 

“Captain Laurence.” 

“Granby, what can I do for you?” All plans and preparations failed at this moment while Granby once again felt trapped between telling the truth and preserving the last shred of dignity he owned. 

“I merely wanted to accept your invitation to go to Boston this weekend sir. I was able to get an extended time off.” Laurence’s smile widened even more, making Granby want to sock him in the jaw. 

“Excellent old sport!” He laughed and turned, offering Granby a cigar which he accepted hastily. “Now forgive me for intruding but that cannot be the only reason you are here. It looks as though you have gotten yourself in to some bad business. The sultans daughter try to put a dress on you?” Granby went read in the face and puffed on his cigar but eventually forced himself into good humor. 

“Not this time, no. Actually sir, I have been,” here it was. Here was the real thing about William Laurence that made Granby itch with tension. The man had such composure, such diplomatic dominancy that one felt as though they could admit their deepest lows to him. The whole time Granby had been determined not to give in, but resistance was futile. “I have been let go of sir. Well, that is…I have quit my position as chaperone to his daughter.” Laurence laughed and Granby clenched his fist. 

“What wonderful news old sport! I congratulate you immensely! Now I believe my idea may actually work.” 

“Idea sir?” The enthusiasm in his voice was not the least reassuring. 

“Yes John, my idea. You need a job, you need a position, a house, a car, a new outlook on life and I need to entertain my nephew for a few more desperate weeks before I can send him off to school. Here is what I will do: I will give you any assistance you need in establishing yourself and you will advise me on how to deal with my illustriously academic, shut in nephew. What do you say?” Laurence’s tone was nearly bursting with joy, joy which Granby could not share. 

“I’ve never been in the business of parenting before sir,” he said lowly. Laurence smiled shaking his head and grasped Granby’s arm tightly, looking him in the eyes intensely. 

“I don’t need to be a parent, just an uncle. You’ve dealt with the sultans daughter and I have heard she is quite the little man eater. Temeraire is a good boy but he’s rather odd. I only ask that you help me get him acclimated to this new life before he starts boarding school in the fall.” Granby remained still, careful not to show the least hint of agreement, but what other choice did he have? Finally, he nodded. Laurence’s laughter echoed through the room as he clasped Granby on the shoulders and poured him a drink. 

“Wonderful! You may stay here for the night, did you leave any of your possessions at the sultans?” He was talking so fast Granby could hardly keep up.

“Yes sir, I’m afraid I left rather suddenly.” Laurence nodded,

“Not a problem old sport, not a problem at all. I will see that Mr. Riley gets you settled in here for the time being while I will arrange the transportation of your belongings.” Despite the cigar and the fresh glass of gin and tonic that had just been handed to him, Granby still felt uneasy and anything but relieved. He did not know exactly what he had in mind when he saw the lights of Laurence’s mansion, he did not know what it was he hopped to find. Now he had landed himself a deal with the most powerful man in Newport. Laurence briefly exited the room, giving Riley orders to arrange a spare few rooms for Granby’s stay. Meanwhile the poor coal merchant’s son sighed heavily and tipped back the rest of his drink, looking out onto the dark rolling sea. 

By god John, what have you gotten yourself into now?


	5. Five

Temeraire scrutinized his bag once more. It was only a weekend outing, but one would be surprised how much one could read in just that short amount of time. So far he had managed to fit in five Chinese scrolls worth of poetry and two English books that he had bought in town. His uncle had offered to buy them for him, but he had insisted to pay for his own so in order to be polite. When he had refused however, it appeared that his uncle was insulted. Temeraire shook his head and sighed, closing the suitcase. It was too dark to go for a walk but the moon was full and the fog had since lifted briefly. Smiling to himself he gathered his blank scrolls and pens which he kept in a safe box under his beds. It was not that he suspected the maids of anything, Temeraire simply wished to keep his belongings (as well as himself,) quiet and hidden. He did not belong here. He belonged in China, he belonged with his mother. It was not that he didn’t like his uncle William, he just felt…unwelcome. Laurence was a remarkable and distinguished man and Temeraire was…well…he didn’t know. Suddenly a knock on the door woke him from his thoughts.   
“Temeraire, Its Laurence. May I come in?” With a sigh Temeraire crossed over his room and opened the door. Laurence stood tall and oppressive in the door way, even if he didn’t mean to come off as such. In his hand he held several pamphlets; all of them had something in common. They either read, “school,” or “academy.” He’s sending me away to school, Temeraire thought with dismay. Surely he had must have done something wrong? Was it because he didn’t like the party? Temeraire tried to smile awkwardly. 

“Are you almost packed for Boston?” Laurence asked. Temeraire nodded, 

“Yes.” His uncle nodded and was silent for a few moments. 

“What is in your hand?” The boy asked innocently. His uncle’s face moved through its stages of expression quickly: surprise, then fear, then collectiveness. He held the pamphlets out to him. 

“They are for your schooling Temeraire. I’ve picked some of the best in the country I believe and come fall you will attend one of them. You can pick out of these,” he smiled. It was such a fake smile it was all Temeraire could do not to show his disappointment. Briefly he eyed the pages showing boys in sweaters and kakis playing sports or studying under some full grown tree in the sunlight, promising prestige and an Ivy League future. He only nodded. Laurence looked at him sympathetically and Temeraire only looked at the floor. He didn’t want to face his uncles eyes, he wanted to go home where he was loved. Not here where so much strangeness was taking place, where he couldn’t be with himself and his books. 

“Do you need help packing?” Laurence offered. 

“No captain, I am perfectly well.” 

“Well in that case, I’ll let you get to it. But first I want to introduce you to someone, Mr. Granby if you would?” Temeraire watched as another man entered his door way, this one sunburnt with brown hair and hint of freckles. It took a moment but he finally recognized him as the man who had come to the library last night looking for that drunken flapper girl. He was her caretaker and he had been most disappointed in her. Briefly Temeraire begged that that girl was nowhere in sight. She was a nuisance. 

“Temeraire this is John Granby, he will be coming with us to Boston and staying with us for some time.” 

“You were the man from the other night,” the youth observed. Granby flushed, rubbing a nervous hand on the back of his neck. 

“Yes, ah that was me.” Temeraire nodded. 

“…And that drunk girl who was with you? Is she here?” Granby shook his head.

“Iskierka? No she isn’t.” Temeraire nodded, relieved. 

“Well I do believe that is it gentleman,” Laurence announced. “Riley will have dinner ready at seven, make sure you pack your bags. We leave early tomorrow morning.” With that he smiled broadly and walked away. Granby only nodded at Temeraire and shook his hand before following Laurence. With a small smile, Temeraire retreated back into his room shutting the door. He sighed and looked through the different school advertisements that his uncle had pressed upon him. It was to be expected that he would continue his schooling, he didn’t know why he was so saddened at something that he knew was a long time coming. American schools did have a good reputation in their ability to teach young scholars, but still Temeraire missed his old tutor: Gong Su. He had been taken away one night, Temeraire shuddered at the memory. He had been carted up because he still taught and believed in the old ways. Even though he hoped every day, Temeraire knew he would never see him again. Alright, he thought to himself as he tossed the brochures in the trash; I will try, I will go to school and see what they know here. But if I do not learn much I suppose I could always get my own ticket back to China and try to find you dear teacher. I will not let you down. With that plan in mind Temeraire set to packing the rest of his things for Boston, maybe even for a much longer trip. 

“What?” Iskierka demanded, twisting away. “It was just a bit of fun!” 

“Just a bit of fun, just a bit of fun?! Do you have any sense at all?” Iskierka winced, his fingers digging sharply into his arm. She tried to jerk herself awake but he was strong.

“Yeah, it was just a little fun Malia now lay off!” Instead he leaned in closer to her, his blue eyes contrasting with his brown hair. His suit smelled of liquor more than it usually did. The boardwalk wasn’t as busy as it normally was. They had been walking for quite some time but it was getting chilly, the warmth of liquor had since worn off and Iskierka’s feet hurt once again from her shoes. She should be getting home by now, her father would come back from one of his meetings and realize she was gone. She would be done for then. It was one thing to sneak out alone, it was another to sneak out with a boy and Malia of all of them. The two had met at a party last year and he had been quite taken with her, his family had recently moved from being timber Barons in Brazil to come here in order to move their business on an international level out of New York.

“Are you even listening to me Iskierka?” He demanded. She shivered and shook her head. 

“No I’m not listening, I’m cold.” He rolled his dark eyes, his hand still gripping her forearm uncomfortably. 

“You can’t be going to parties on your own and kissing other fellas sweetheart. It just isn’t done.” 

“I will do whatever I please with whoever I please. Now give me your coat and walk me home, It’s late and I’m tired.” They walked up to a restaurant, situated on the boardwalk overlooking the cliffs. Several tables were set up, each with little red candles on them which Iskierka admired. She longed to go inside and warm up but Malia was not having it. 

“No, you can’t go off doing what you want! I’m a respectable guy doll face, and if your with me then I expect you to be a respectable girl.” 

“I maybe I don’t want to be with you,” Iskierka sneered. She had had enough of him in the past weeks. Malia was anything but respectable. He looked and called to other girls; he went to parties and danced without her. He was definitely not as charming as he used to be. Before she could take another step, Iskierka screamed as he turned her around by the arm, shoving her into the iron railing that separated the boardwalk from the sandy beach. With one arm he held her against the metal bar, the other hand he rested on her shoulder, leaning in close to her face so that she could smell the alcohol on him. 

“Now you listen to me and you listen good. Your my girl you hear? MY girl and no girl of mine is going to be kissing other fellas or making an idiot of herself at parties. Remember what your father said when we first started going steady? He said that if I made you into a proper gal then he would let us move into my aunt’s place. Don’t you want that?” 

“I want you to get away from me!” Iskierka snarled. No one else was walking buy to see them and the light above them was flickering. “I’ve just about had enough of you Malia! You never let me do anything swell. Why I bet there are a dozen other fellas around here who would line up at the door for me!” 

“Ha!” He laughed in her face: “You think yourself such so fancy don’t you? A real flapper but your mistaken baby. Now I want to live with” 

“I want you to get away from me!” Iskierka snarled. No one else was walking buy to see them and the light above them was flickering. “I’ve just about had enough of you Malia! You never let me do anything swell. Why I bet there are a dozen other fellas around here who would line up at the door for me!” 

“Ha!” He laughed in her face: “You think yourself such so fancy don’t you? A real flapper but your mistaken baby. Now I want to live with you; I love you Iskierka! I’m going to Princeton next year and you just wait for me here in my aunt’s house and then once I inherit my father’s business we can move back to Brazil. You’ll love it there! I want what is best for us but you have to hold up your end of the deal too. I want you to be a good girl, no funny business!” Iskierka hissed, her eyes flashing. 

“I don’t want that! I don’t want you to be anywhere near me! You don’t let me be myself; you just want a pretty prize! Well I’m not taking it anymore! I hate you, you spoiled possessive jerk! I never want to see you ever again. Take me home right now or else I’ll…” White pain slapped across her face. Iskierka clutched the left side of her cheek, it throbbed with pain. Maila stood over her, breathing heavily. 

“That’s right, you listen to me princess, your no flapper and you’re not doing anything I don’t like. So just sit tight until I’ve got us a proper income.” 

Tears welled in the back of Iskierka’s eyes but she refused to let him show. With shaking hand Iskierka reached for the candle on the table. Malia continued to shout at her, another searing pain crossed her face as he hit her again. Wincing she gripped the candle. He raised his hand again, this time it was in a fist. He brought it down. Just in time Iskierka screamed and thrust the candle upward, Malia screamed as the fire caught on his sleeve. 

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Iskierka yelled defiantly as Malia scrambled to de-flame himself, tearing off his jacket and throwing it into the nearby sand. Iskierka wasted no time, she ran as fast as her heals would allow. I need to get away from here, away from father and from Malia. I’ll find a city or something, anything. As she turned down the street to where her mansion stood she passed a street sign that read “Boston,” with an arrow towards the highway. She smiled to herself, even though it hurt. That’s it, Boston. I’ll go to Boston.


	6. Six

Iskierka squinted in the window, watching the passing city as the train roared by. For the fifth time she tried to apply an ample amount of eye shadow to her right eye. 

Damn it, I almost have it! She cursed, trying once more. The bruise left by Malia on her left eye could pass for heavily applied eye makeup and she was determined to make it seem as such to everyone else. The train ride to Boston was not as uncomfortable as she had thought. She had successfully snuck back into the mansion and gotten her things. She tried to be humble with them of course, only packing three suitcases and the largest purse she owned. The train ride was three hours with many stops but she passed her time gazing out the window and admiring other people in their seats. 

I am far more pretty then her, Iskierka thought bitterly of a tall blonde who had just gotten on. She wore the most hideous dress with mismatched shoes. The blonde was with a tall man in a business suit the color of the dirt on either side of the tracks. Iskierka huffed and slid down in her seat making a motion to attendant in the car.

“What can I do for you miss?” He asked. Iskierka put on her best smile and batted her eye lashes. 

“Another glass of wine,” the man nodded asking for her payment. “Put it on my father’s tab,” Iskikerka stated with a hint of bitterness. The drink took longer than she would have liked and it was of a dryer tannen then she preferred but she drank it anyway and resumed looking out past the rushing buildings and green trees. 

They think they can tell me what to do, Malia, my father, even Granby, shame on them! I’ll go to Boston and they can come after me if they want me so badly. It’s not New York but it will have to do. At this point, anything will do. She sighed heavily and leaned her face against the cold glass, her wrist still hurt from where Malia had grabbed but it was nothing that a few dozen bangles couldn’t fix! She had taken particular care in planning what she was going to wear on this trip. A long loose red dress with a v neck that her father would surely prohibit, green gem stones dotted about the waist with long draping purple beaded necklace. She wore black heels and tights as well with a short red and black hat. So far her efforts were appearing quite useful, several men had come to say hello to her and to strike up a conversation, but she had shot them down one by one with a causal wave of her hand. She didn’t want anything to do with men today, at least not on her train ride. When she got to the city once more she would put on her high flying flapper face but for right now she allowed herself to sit and sulk, dreaming about a day when she would not have to constantly fight against everything that tried to control her. 

Granby could not help but grip the dash board tightly as Laurence slammed on the breaks once again. 

I thought people were supposed to get out of the city in summer time. He thought dubiously. Laurence only laughed and motioned for Granby to help himself to one of the bottles of wine that sat with Temeraire in the back seat. He only sighed; Laurence had insisted on showing off his brand new yellow Duesenberg. Granby had nearly broken a sweat when he saw it in the large garage with about ten other cars in tow. It was Laurence’s favorite and so it was that they drove it all the way to Boston, in the heavy heat. Sunburn had already grazed his face causing more freckles to erupt and he had tried to drink wine to cool himself down, in turn it only made him nauseous. The only person who looked equally as miserable was Temeraire who sat in the backseat, his wide blue eyes darting around anxiously clutching several books to his chest.

Poor kid, he’s not going to stand a chance in boarding school. Granby’s pity did not last long as Laurence pulled up to a large iron gate sandwiched between narrow brick buildings. Berkley and Maximus stood outside of two large green doors, Maxumis smiled and waved as Laurence put on the breaks. Berkley only snuffed out his cigarette and walked towards them stiffly. Laurence was the first to step from the car, smiling at it lovingly. Granby rolled his eyes and for a moment sucked in his breath as Temeraire’s keen eyes watched him. For a moment he hoped the boy wouldn’t tell but the youth only smiled. 

“Laurence good to see you, drive wasn’t a killer I hope?” Laurence only beamed with that air of radiance Granby hated so. 

“My beauty’s a trooper. She’s got more than pretty paint I tell you. She can deal with a little heat, though I would like to have her wiped down if that is alright?” It was not a question but a demand which Berkley nodded to; motioning to one of his men who obliged quickly. 

“Excellent!” Laurence smiled like a child getting his way. It reminded him of Iskierka a thought to which he twitched with guilt. 

“Who is this?” Berkley asked. It took Granby a minute to realize he was the one being addressed. 

“Mr. Berkley, this is John Granby: my personal assistant.” Laurence put an arm around Granby with enough force to make him fall over. The materialistic friendliness was enough to make him vomit. Uncomfortably Granby let out his hand, Berkley took it, shaking it with the hands of a man whose business it is to make allies. Granby forced a smile but was relieved when Laurence finally let go of him. Berkley coughed for a moment before saying rather awkwardly: 

“It’s dreadfully hot out, let us take it inside shall we? I recently got a new bottle of Scotch I have yet to sample.” Laurence agreed with excitement of course, strolling in the doorway as though he owned the house. Granby must have let his thoughts carry on his face for Laurence turned to him, smiling all too perfectly. 

“Come now old sport, it will be splendid.” 

Maybe for you, he thought bitterly as they entered. Temeraire and Maximus trailed behind, the larger boy appeared to be friendly enough, making Temeraire unearth some of his outwardly stand offish demeanor. Berkley turned to his son before another set of obnoxiously ornately carved doors. 

“Why don’t you show Temeraire and I around? I have some business with Mr. Laurence. Maybe he can get your head in a book instead of a plate of food?” Granby turned to the rather large boy who only laughed in good humor. 

“Maybe Mr. Laurence can give you something to actually smile about?” Father and son smiled at each other for a moment. There was a certain bond between them built upon a mutual humor that Granby could only envy and resent. He and his father had not spoken since he caught Granby with another boy holding hands in the shipyards outside of Newport. From that day on his father refused to speak, look at or even acknowledge him, and then without any previous notice he had died, drinking too much. Granby shook his head thinking about it but denied the Scotch he was offered. Laurence grimaced for a moment, but replaced his disapproval with that happy go lucky façade quicker then lightening. 

“What’s the matter old sport, Scotch not your drink?” 

“My father was an alcoholic.” Granby said flatly. There was a moment of tension in the room as Laurence, Berkley and the servant who had served them tried to figure out what saying would be the most socially acceptable. Of course, Laurence broke in with his ever easy going mannerism. 

“Give this man a cigar then, Berkley if you would?” Berkley nodded immediately as his attendant bowed and exited. Granby watched him go; his only other companion who was not enjoying this gentleman talks. The man returned shortly with a large box, presenting it to him. Granby stared stupidly for a moment, never having been offered such a thing in his life. He went with the cigar with the white band along it. Plain and unfitting in such an expensive set, much like himself. 

“Let them talk business, I have a better are idea. Say are you hungry?” Maximus, or Max as he preferred to be called. Temeraire smiled, 

“I am feeling a little hungry. Is there any Chinese food here to be had?” The thought of meals from home made his heart ache. Max frowned for a moment. Temeraire sighed, it was no use.   
“I think I know a place, if you don’t mind driving a little ways.” Instantly Temeraire beamed. 

“Oh yes of course, I wouldn’t mind at all!” 

They decided to walk, or rather Temeraire decided on it. When they finally reached the place Temeraire was nearly floating with joy. It had been so long, too long without a glimpse of home. 

There is something to be valued in progress and enormity but if one progresses too much they lose track of home and heritage, the ground on which they stand. Maximus hurried him inside to where lanterns hung from the ceiling and men sat at a bar. Smoke and alcohol filled his nostrils, making his eyes water. 

“Um, table for two.” Max said to the waiter who regarded them both with distain. They were filed over to a red colored booth and given each a menu. Nearly trembling from excitement Temeraire let his eyes flow over home-cooked words but only frowned after realizing he recognized nothing. 

This isn’t anything like home at all. The impact of it hit him so hard he wished to leave and bury himself in a scroll, but Maximus had brought him here and it wouldn’t have been polite. With a heart full of heavy led he ordered tea; the request was met with a judgmental gaze on the part of their waiter who asked several times if Temeraire was sure he didn’t want a cocktail.

“Just tea, thanks,” the man rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Maximus had the sense to order some actual food, and dumplings before the man left and the two were stuck in awkward silence. Temeraire scanned the place, there was nothing familiar about it. Plastic dragons and characters, fake lanterns, the restaurant was nothing but kitsch. For the remained of their meal Temeraire put forth his best effort to appear happy for Max’s sake. It worked for a time, but the words of his friend were muffled by his thoughts of home. His tea wasn’t as hot as he would have liked but he would not send it back. He had seen his uncle pull that before and it always made him squirm for it was very rude. Cold tea was not the worst thing in the world and so he bared it while he sipped, hoping that tomorrow he could find a quiet place to read on the common they had passed on the walk over. 

“Hey! Tim, Timothy, right?” Temeraire’s thoughts were interrupted as he looked up. A flapper adorned in red green and purple was addressing him. She held a cocktail in one hand as the other took a drag from a cigarette, her eyes were nearly glowing in the lantern light. 

“Temeraire, if you please.” He corrected. She waved her hand dismissively; there was something about her that he recognized and when it came to him he felt vomit raise in his throat. 

The girl from the party. 

“Whose yah’ friend?” She demanded at a voice much louder then needed. Temeraire sighed, 

“This is Maximus.” Max looked at Iskierka with the bewildered expression of a small dog encountering a wolf. The flapper girl laughed loudly and slid into the booth, pushing Temeraire against the wall. 

“Well isn’t that just swell all of us together again!” Temeraire frowned, taking no part in her jubilation. They had already paid and he had been waiting for Max to finish his fifth helping of Miso soup but now it appeared they would have to stay longer while this Iskierka girl got her full. 

“Watch it,” Temeraire snapped as her elbow butted him in the ribs. Iskierka’s eyes flashed, a smile painted on her lips as she scooted over just a little to make room for him. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be in Boston!” She squealed. 

“My uncle-“ 

“Your uncle is William Laurence isn’t he?” Iskierka beamed. “Does he go to New York often, have you been to Broadway? He would take me wouldn’t he?” Temeraire looked at her dumbly as he tried to process her demands. Examining her face for a moment he noticed something different. Through layers of makeup he could have sworn he saw a dark bruise circling her left eye. 

“You fellas wait right here, I’ll get us a drink!” She announced and flitted off before Temeraire could protest. The two boys watched her before Maximus turned to Temeraire: 

“You know that sweetheart?’ Temeraire finished his tea and let out a heavy breath,

“Unfortunately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for some more characters to enter the scene relatively soon! Levitas, Volly (maybe) Arkady, Wringe and more! Comments always appreciated! :)


	7. Seven

Poor Maximus had too much to drink that evening as they stumbled from the restaurant out onto the crowded streets. Temeraire heftily tried to support him under the arm but it was rather awkward to do so. Iskierka, who was always a little less than rational tramped next to them, laughing and whooping to whatever man passed them by on the street. Temeraire rolled his eyes as a group of men hollered obscene comments while they passed. They were directed at the flapper who was doing a very good job of egging them on. 

“Iskierka,” Temeraire snapped as the girl lingered to kiss a nearby gentleman on the street. “Stop it.” She rounded on him, slinging a gentle arm around his neck. Her skin was warm and olive, if he had been in a better mood, Temeraire would have enjoyed the contrast of her darker tone on his own pale neck. He did not consider that now. “Stop fooling around. We need to get Max home.” Iskierka laughed, snorting and chortling; her breath smelling of liquor that made Temeraire’s stomach lurch. 

“You are such a fun killer you know? Lighten up!” Without warning she kissed him sloppily on the cheek, doing all the more to provoke his anger as he pushed her away gently. 

“I need to get Maximus back home first. Just be mature for the next hour until we get somewhere safe.” 

“Maximus, Temeraire!” Another high pitched squeal stole his attention form Iskierka who had stopped to get a cigarette off of a younger man, enticed by her. Lily bounced across the street, her dress was loose and the color of silver that showed off her slender figure. Bracletts adorned her wrists, a head band matching her bright blue eyes. She had dyed her hair again, blue once more but this time with streaks of bold orange. “I didn’t know you guys were in town!” She gave each of the boys a kiss on the cheek and even hugged Iskierka tightly. “Poor darling seems like he has had too much,” she said with sympathy regarding Max who could only utter a groan and clutch his stomach. “Here Temeraire, let me help.” Lily crossed over to Maxu’s other side, lifting the weight off of Temeraire with a strength that wouldn’t be expected from such a slight girl. Lily took out a handkerchief from her purse and began to dab Max’s face for he was sweating rather profusely. The night was warm, but Temeraire could feel a slight chill to it as they walked up the streets. Autumn was coming and in autumn, his uncle would send him away. Fear gripped him tight, if Laurence saw this, he would be so disappointed. 

It isn’t my fault. It is certainly Iskierka who kept on ordering us drinks. He stole a look at the girl, who had now taken to chatting with Lily. He frowned as he looked closer; the makeup on her right eye had come off throughout the night, but her left eye remained purple and swollen. Someone had hit her, hard. Temeraire wondered if it was her father but that was unlikely, probably her boyfriend or some fella who had tried to go too far with her. Either way it was no excuse. 

“Hey come back here!” Iskierka’s screech cut through his thoughts. Temeraire shook his head, looking up the street. The back of a young boy was to them, running away. 

“He stole her bag!” Lily exclaimed, pointing. Iskierka was already on it, with remarkable skill for someone who had been rather tipsy only recently she ran for the child. Lily sped up her pace, still supporting Maximus and Temeraire followed reluctantly. 

“Pardon, excuse me,” he managed through the rush of pedestrians. Jazz music blared from all around, the fires of the homeless lit every alley way. Rich women and men ruled the streets in their lavish suits and dress almost keeping him from catching up with them. 

“Here!” He heard Lily’s voice sounded through the city streets. Temeraire saw her waving in the shadows. He took a breath and sprinted across the street to the alley way where Iskierka had cornered the pickpocket. The boy was little, no older than ten; soot smeared his face and tattered shirt. His feet were bare. Iskierka clutched her bag in one hand, the other pointing an accusing finger at the child. 

“Who do you think you are? How dare you try to steal my bag?” The boy’s face moved from fear to sadness, crinkling in the dark. Lily only gave him a sympathetic look from behind where Iskierka made her stance. Maximus had sobered up enough so that he stood on his feet next to her. Temeraire took his place, standing next to Iskierka to bet a better view of the small boy. 

“My father was right about you folk, you dirty stealing lowly people! How dare you! Did you really think you could get away with taking my things? Is that what you thought?!” Temeraire feared for a minute that she was going to strike the crying boy.

“Enough Iskierka, you’re being ridiculous.” He snarled and ignored her huffing. Instead Temeraire turned to the boy, pulling a few extra coins from his pocket and handing it to him. 

“Here, now you don’t have to steal anything.” He said softly. The boy looked at him with big brown eyes, stained red by tears. His whole frame shook and he stood still for a long time before tentitvely taking the coins from Temeraire’s hand. The child cast a wary glance at Iskierka but then said in a timid voice: 

“I didn’t mean to steal sir. I didn’t want to, he made me. I won’t get fed if I don’t bring back enough goods. I’m sorry.” Temeraire frowned; his thoughts immediately going to the plentiful banquets that Laurence ate each meal, guilt welled in him. 

“Someone is making you steal? What’s his name, what is your name?” Temeraire did his best to sound gentle. Iskierka only cursed and shook her head, fumes of smoke might as well have been steaming from her ears. The boy sniffled,

“I’m not supposed to say.” 

“Alright then,” Temeraire tried again, “then can you tell us your name?” The boy nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. 

“I’m Levitas.”

Granby stared dumbly into his third glass of whiskey, the night was getting late and he had never gone out on a yacht in his life so Laurence and Berkley’s conversation for the past hour and half was not the least bit interesting to him. They made no effort to include him, why would they? He was not of their class; he had no right to be there. Why he had ever let Laurence drag him into this ridiculous world into this in the first place, he would never know. Nodding absentmindedly to whatever comment Laurence had just made, he took another sip of whiskey. A knock jarred him from his thoughts. 

“Come in,” Berkley coughed. The door swung open. Temeraire came in first followed by Maximus, a girl with blue hair and to Granby’s utter shock, Iskierka. Her eyes locked on him in an instant. He had only just as long to prepare his ears from the inevitable scream. 

“Granby!” The girl elbowed her way past the three others, storming over to him in a fury. Granby downed the rest of his drink quickly and rose to meet the challenge. Her eyes blazed with the fiery rage he had seen all too often. It was tiresome more than anything now, Granby thought as he shook his head; but Iskierka didn’t have time to start a tantrum. Granby saw the figure behind the window first, it was dark in the night but he could make out one thing. A gun with the barrel pointed through the window towards the back of William Laurence. Granby ran for it, flinging open the curtains and unlatching the window. Iskierka, still yelling after him incessantly, followed. Berkley let out a cry as Granby blindly seized whomever it was. There was a bang and series of screams. Laurence joined him, arms and legs flying as they tried to wrestle to the ground. All logic gone from his head, Granby landed blow after blow upon the attackers face. Somewhere her heard Laurence call for something to tie the killer down. Temeraire was hovering anxiously but Granby hardly took a notice to it. His body flushed with adrenaline as his fist connected over and over again with the man’s flesh, cracking bone and sprinkling blood all over the carpet. The man barely defended himself. By the time Laurence pulled Granby off of him, the assassin had no strength with which to do so. 

“John, are you hurt?” Laurence asked, he had not lost his breath and was the only one who remained calm. Granby nodded, his heart still hammering. 

“You?” Laurence nodded, looking to the assassin who was now lying on the floor. He wore an all-black suit and hat, the red tie his only other coloring besides his blood. One arm still held the gun, limp at his side. He moaned but did not rise. His skin was a deep olive, but for the swollen flesh that Granby had beaten to a pulp. 

“I’m alright,” Maximus muttered to his father. Berkley appeared to be well of health apart from the fact that he had nearly choked on his cigar. Lily nodded, insisting that she too was alright even though she trembled, staring at the man lying at Laurence’s feet. 

“Temeraire, are you alright?” The boy nodded, he too could not take is eyes off of the mysterious man. There was stunned silence for a moment before Iskierka interrupted it. 

“Who is that man? How dare he try to kill my Granby!” Isierka shrilled. The girl pitched forward suddenly, one jeweled hand reaching up to her stomach. Temeraire grabbed her without thinking. Granby’s eyes widened, the effect of the whiskey vanished as Iskierka fell. Temeraire looked around bewildered for a moment before he snapped out of it, looking over her.

“She’s been shot! She needs a hospital!” Granby nodded, willing himself to examine her. Dark blood pooled under her dress, dripping onto the floor. 

“I’m fine, where’s my Granby? Where is the man who tried to murder him? Let us kill him at once!” 

“I didn’t try to murder your precious Granby,” The man on the floor spoke thinly. Laurence was upon him in a moment, holding him down by his neck.

“Who are you? You do you work for?” The man smiled, blood staining his teeth. 

“Well to answer the lady’ question, I didn’t come to murder this Granby fellow. I was hired to kill you William Laurence. Friends call me Tenzing, you can call me Tharkay.” Laurence snorted and broke into a grin. Iskierka opened her mouth to retort but her eyes rolled backward and she said no more. 

“The wound is in her stomach! She’s going to die if we don’t stop the bleeding, she needs a doctor!” Temeraire cried, his voice straining to maintain composure. 

“We can take my car,” Berkley put in with effort. Granby felt dizzy, his eyes moving from Iskierka to Laurence and the man on the floor. Before they took Iskierka down stairs to the hospital Granby heard what this Tharkay whispered to Laurence. 

“As for who I work for, well you might find it interesting; I work for a Mr. Jeremy Rankin. Perhaps you have heard of him.”


	8. Eight

Why in god’s name would this man tell me his name much less his employer? Laurence wondered. It was just one of the many things running through his mind at the moment. They weren’t even cohesive thoughts. Merely snip-its: attempted assassination, Granby is alright, Iskierka shot, Temeraire’s alright, window smashed, blood on Berkley’s Turkish rug. So on and so fourth. The man whose name appeared to be Tenzing Tharkay smiled, he still lay on the floor, his face covered in blood.

“You are wondering why I gave you my name and the name of he who hired me? You must think I am mad but it is no secret really.” Laurence glared at him but something in the other man’s eyes told him he wasn’t going to run. With a grunt, Laurence stepped off of him straightened himself up and poured himself a glass of brandy. Tharkay also stood, wiping strands of dark hair back from his face. Laurence fished into the ice bucket and wrapped several cubes around a napkin wordlessly handing it to Tharaky, who accepted with an unnecessary smirk. 

“I tell you this William Laurence because believe it or not I am on your side.” 

Coming from the man who just tried to shoot me, really? Laurence prided himself on being a man who could figure people out however recently he was finding that this talent was dwindling. “I have nothing to gain from killing you Mr. Laurence and nothing to lose for telling you the name of my employer. When Jeremy Rankin first came to me asking me for my help in ending your life I asked him why. Do you know what he said?” Laurence took a seat on the couch, swirling his drink before knocking it back.

“My money?” Another smirk lit Tharkay’s face as the man went to the bar. 

“May I?” Laurence nodded absentmindedly. 

Tharkay poured himself a drink before walking over and refilling Laurene’s own glass. He threw himself down on the couch and took a swig before answering.

“No it wasn’t for money. It was for history.” Laurence looked at him sharply. Tharkay only laughed and took another sip.

“You see it was one of Rankin’s grandfathers who was the captain of the HMS Amitie. The ship from where your fortune has flowed.” Laurence nodded once again the drinks and smoke he had taken part in earlier were beginning to take effect. “He’s jealous of your fortune,” Tharkay said, helping himself to another glass of liqueur as though it were water. “He wants you dead and he’s a powerful man but I wouldn’t worry sir. I was his last resort. I even made off with a new car and few new suits just for agreeing to the deal.” Tharkay sighed, obviously enjoying himself as he pressed the cold napkin to his swollen face. Laurence hardly heard any of these things. Something about the Amitie, someone named Rankin wanting him dead, this Tharkay man deciding not to kill him after all. It was all a blur to him. 

Temeraire, where is he? He shook his head, after a moment and stood. It was time to act. 

“Mr. Tharkay, I must thank you accordingly for deciding not to end my life but I am afraid I must turn you out at once. You have over stayed your welcome here and as a man of the Royal Navy of England I am quite sure I can protect myself in whatever means necessary. You may return to this Rankin fellow and tell him that if he should wish to speak with me, I own a number of bars and lounges in Newport where I am happy to meet with him.” Tharkay shrugged, setting down his third glass of scotch on the glass coffee table before standing up and looking at Laurence flat in the face. His brow was furrowed; it was the most expression he had shown thus far. 

“Very well Mr. Laurence. You are a confident man, if there is anything you need of me however you may call.” Without a word Tharkay reached into his suit pocket and handed Laurence a business card.

Tenzing Tharkay  
893 Commonwealth Avenue,  
Boston MA 

Laurence managed to suppress a laughter as he stared at the crumbled piece of parchment.  
“I didn’t think hired killers carried business cards.” Tharkay winked, making his way to the door. 

“Watch yourself Mr. Laurence, there is a fine line between you being as valuable as your money and your money being as valuable as you.” With a small bow the man winked and walked out. Laurence watched him go, too disturbed then he would care to admit. Only when he had heard the front door shut did he allow himself to look around the room, clear it and light a cigar. 

Granby was going numb, he was barely away of Temeraire beside him. Guilt, shame, worry, all of it ravenged through his stomach like snakes; he tried to tell himself that it was fine, that Laurence could hold his own against that murderous man but doubt still managed to creep into his mind. 

On second thought, I’d rather be listening to their pretentious conversations in some ritzy mansion. He told himself as he sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Iskierka had been in the OR for nearly two hours now with no word on her progress to give him any comfort. Uneasily he looked over at Temeraire. The boy sat beside him, his hands properly folded in his lap, bright blue eyes staring into the ground. Granby opened his mouth to say something but what could he possibly speak of? He nearly let Temeraire’s uncle die, he had let Iskierka get shot. Once again, John Granby failed those he cared for most.

Suddenly the doors of the hallway swung open, an OR nurse approached, a grim expression on her face that made Granby want to be sick.

“Are you Mr. John Granby?” He stood and nodded waiting for the worst.

“We were able to extract the bullet successfully. She was lucky though, a few inches higher and it would have been in her stomach. She will need to recover for a few days here before we can dismiss her. Do you have a place to stay?” Granby lied but didn’t care. Relief flooded through him and he allowed himself a small smile. “Will you be able to stay with her over night?” Granby shook his head, clearing his mind from where it toiled. 

“Y…yes, I can stay with-“ 

“There you are old sport!” Laurence strode down the hallway, his suit looked as though it had been freshly pressed, his smile was as perfect as always. Laurence laid a firm hand on Granby’s shoulder, leaning in close to his ear. 

“We must go back to Rode Island, tonight. I will send a cab for Iskierka once she has recovered but I must speak with you in the security of my household.” Granby opened his mouth to protest, trying to keep his voice down so the nurse would not hear. 

“Laurence Iskierka has been shot! I can’t just take off and…”

“Please old sport, just this once. For me?” Granby looked at him, frowning. He wouldn’t give in. Not this time. He was sick of being pawned by those who thought they were better than him and no about of suave was going to change that. 

“Temeraire can look after her for tonight. I’ll send a cab for them tomorrow morning. Please John.” Granby gritted his teeth, but he could tell that under the gleaming eyes and clean smelling clothes that William Laurence was just another sad soul lost in this world, a sad soul who now had a price on his head. Granby sighed heavily.

“Fine,” he growled. Laurence beamed, making Granby feel important and essential even if it was a lie. 

“Excellent my friend! Temeraire, you stay here with Iskierka, I will send a car for you tomorrow, say noon?” A streak of pity ran across Granby’s chest looking at Temeraire. The boy only nodded, his eyes far away. Without a word of thanks Laurence motioned Granby to follow as he began to walk away. 

“Look after her, please Temeraire?” He whispered desperately. 

“I will.” The boy nodded and although dejected Granby could tell the boy would be true. He did not get the chance to thank Temeraire; Laurence clapped loudly demanding he hurry and Granby resentfully obeyed wondering what could possibly be so important that Laurence would need his private consultation.

Temeraire had never felt so awkwardly placed in his entire life. It had been hours, the sun had long since set and yet he remained still, locked in a small hospital room watching Iskierka lay there, slowly breathing. He looked her up and down but there was not much to see. A large bandage covered where the bullet had been near her stomach. She wore a light blue hospital gown that was muted against the white covers. Her black hair pooled around her head like she had been dropped from the sky. Somehow, even like this she still looked pretty. He sighed, thinking again. He thought about his uncle, about Granby whom he knew he should like. He thought about China and about how he would never be going back again. Iskierka let out small sounds every now and then. A snore once or twice, a moan of discomfort, the only other sound was that of the IV dripping liquids into her through a plastic tube. The skin around her IV was inflamed and soft to the touch when he dared gently poke at it. Temeraire knew that it was possible to get shot and live, he had read many books about it. But one thing the books did not tell him was the sinking feeling you would have watching someone, even someone you could hardly stand, lay incapacitated on a bed, the wound still bleeding. 

Swallowing hard, he reached out a hand, gently brushing a piece of her hair that had fallen in front of her face. She wasn’t that bad of a person, when she was unconscious he supposed. She still had a black eye that now seemed minor. Sighing again Temeraire took her hand, it was warm and reassured him. 

“Iskierka, I don’t know if you can hear me but Granby had to go back to Rode Island with my uncle. I promised him I would look after you so,” he stopped, at a loss for words. He had never known quite the right things to say. Sure he was brilliant, he read a lot and was a master at poetry or so his previous mentors had said, but when it came to emotion Temeraire was simply stumped. 

“You’ll get better quickly,” he said softly, still holding her hand. Then he spoke once more and this time from the heart. He spoke because he knew the words were true and because he knew that even if Iskierka couldn’t hear him, maybe she would understand. Maybe she was the only one who would. “Please do hurry up and get well. Don’t die, my mother is dead and she was the last person to ever take an interest in me beyond the academic answers I could provide. Not that you know me at all, but I don’t want you to die Iskierka.” His voice shook at the end as he squeezed her hand, trying to absorb some of her strong will. Temeraire smiled sadly, Iskierka was nice to talk to, as long as she couldn’t talk back. Fearful at first and then with a more simple intent he leaned down kissing the top of her hand. She remained still but her fingers closed around his gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is finished! Next chapter will be up but it may take awhile! Don't worry though I DO plan on finishing this story. Comments always greatly appreciated! :) Sorry about any spelling/grammar errors!


	9. NINE

Two weeks later John Granby found himself in the middle of another boisterous, flamboyant party. It was hosted of course, by William Laurence. The occasion for such an affair was unclear but of course the reason for such a ruckus never really mattered to him. Berkley was there of course, along with Max, Lily and Cathrine Harcourt; the entirety of New Port had arrived. Aristocrats drank with gangsters, showgirls danced side by side with debutants. Granby stood with his back against a stone wall, gazing out into the collage of dance, glitter and light. He had tried to warn Laurence against such a show, but summer was nearing its end and the man with the winning smile refused to change his mind. 

“You had an attempt on your life Will, and you are going to let god knows how many strangers into your home?” Granby had yelled. With that smile he hated to love, Laurence had grinned and reassured him.

“Mr. Tharkay has reassured me that his employer has suspended his previous ambitions.” 

“I am not entirely sure I trust Mr. Tharkay,” Granby had quipped. Since the events in Boston, Laurence had employed Mr. Tharkay as his personal assistant in addition to Granby. He had resented it at first, thinking Laurence foolish but there was no point in being angry. Across the crowded halls the music from the banned thumped, glitter was being thrown, everywhere. People threw themselves over one another in a frenzy to have the best time they would never remember. As always Laurence was nowhere to be seen. 

“Mr. Granby?” Riley’s voice was nearly in audible through the crowds of squealing, yelling and brass playing. 

“Yes?” Granby strained to speak over the noise. Riley pushed his way past several giggling guests and slid against the wall next to Granby. He wore a grin on his face that was unbecoming of his personality. “What?” Granby asked, slightly irritated. Riley only laughed, leaning in to his ear.

“You’re wondering why he does all this,” the man gestured to the wild crowd. Three men had just fallen into to the swimming pool together. In truth Granby had never wondered about these extravagant dances until that very moment and he found himself suddenly very curious. 

“He does it for her,” Riley said simply. Granby frowned. “Jane Roland,” Riley whispered. “They met just as soon as Laurence got this place. I’ll never forget the day she arrived at the door.” The two men were forced to help a long a quartet of stumbling guests while they passed. Riley patted one elderly gentleman on the back and shook his head before continuing. “She was the only female admiral in the air force, and I believe she could have single handedly won the war!” Riley laughed and laid a hand on Granby’s shoulder. “

“So he does this to impress her?”  
Riley nodded, “Something like that. See I reckon Laurence ain’t really all that rich grew up in a good house in Britian no doubt but he sure as hell was never rich. He got rich finding that Napoleonic wreck but deep down he knows he’s just some lowly scheming politician’s son. The two of them snog and have at the other, but I think he really loves her and all these parties, all these riches are just to get her to really love him back.” Granby shook his head, dodging another throw of glitter from the balcony. He cared not to think about love.

“She doesn’t love him?” Riley laughed again.

“I don’t think Jane Roland would waste her time loving a man. Even one as good as Will Laurence,” Granby nodded.

“But he still does all…this?” Riley nodded again. 

“He does indeed, or at least he tries to. But between me and you it won’t ever work now that his sister’s kid is here. That’s why he’s sending him off to boarding school in a week.”

“Temeraire?” Granby asked, he could not help but feel defensive for the young man who was probably having to put up with a very drugged Iskierka. Riley nodded,

“Yup. The kid messed it up for him, he put a wrinkle in Laurence’s plan and Laurence always has a plan. It’s always smooth too, much like himself. He’s hoping that as long as he keeps this façade and keeps Temeraire away that Jane Roland will actually fall in love with him.” Granby nodded, trying to make scene of it all through the haze of music and shrieking. As much as he hated it, he found himself angry and disappointed. Granby had thought that winning smile was true and genuine; thought that Laurence really cared about people, really cared about his nephew. Now it turned out, the only reason Laurence did any of this was for some army hardened woman and it was just a lie. 

Damn me, Granby thought. For once I try to help someone who I think is good and different. It turns out these rich people are all the same, selfishly absorbed in their own selfish illusions. Without a word he rubbed his face with his hand and grunted, lifting his back off the wall and making for Laurence’s study. He would not tell Laurence off, he had made that mistake once already. But he would quit and he would never again work for someone so ignorant and fake.

Temeraire tried to help Iskierka up out of bed, but she only smacked his hand away. 

“I am fine!” he sighed, so much for the sweetness he felt coming from her earlier. 

“Fine!” Temeraire snapped, he had enough of all of it. What was more, his uncle had sent a car to come and get them. A car with a chauffeur, He doesn’t even care. Iskierka’s been shot, and he doesn’t even have the decency to come and pick us up! But he knew it wasn’t just that. Laurence had been nothing but estranged since he arrived. Temeraire knew his uncle planned only to sell him away to some boarding school. He was tired of being treated like extra baggage, by his uncle and the young flapper. With a grunt he led Iskierka towards the steps, ignoring her protests. Outside, the yellow car was waiting for them.  
“I’ll drive,” Temeraire snarled. The old chauffer shrugged. Iskierka herself cooed to him as she climbed in beside the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure you should be driving? You look rather upset.” 

“It will calm me down,” he whispered through clenched teeth. His hands sweat on the leather rimmed steering wheel. At a speed far above necessary they took off, winding through the crowded streets. Iskierka squealed with delight, waving her arms about. Temeraire only drove faster, his anger only increasing. 

It’s not my fault my mother died, it’s not my fault I was sent to America. I never even wanted to come here!

“Temeraire, slow down!” He was mildly aware of Iskierka shouting in his ear but he ignored her. 

All Laurence cares about are his parties and his money. He can’t wait to ship me off.

“You’re going awfully fast son,” the chauffer commented from the back seat. They rounded a tight corner at high velocity, barely dodging the people and other automobiles. Horns blared and people shouted but Temeraire paid no mind to any of the voices besides those within his own head. 

Is that all I am to them? A burden, a piece of meat? I’ve tried to be good, kind and quiet! Laurence talks to everyone at his parties every night but can’t sit down to talk to me for a second! 

Iskierka shrieked as they rounded another corner. 

“Temeraire stop it!” He shrugged her off roughly, 

“Don’t touch me…” there was a bang then, followed by a crunch as the figure of a small boy impacted the windshield. Iskierka screamed horrendously as the figure sailed bloody and bruised over the car. But Temeraire did not stop, not even when the chauffer yelled at him to turn around. Temeraie, blind in his anger, kept driving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! Here it is, chapter nine. Chapter ten will be the last! Comments always appreciated. Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors! :)


End file.
